The Problem With A Christian Writer's Group

I had this preconceived idea of what I would get out of a writing group. I thought being around people - no matter their age or writing genre of choice - would make me feel like part of a tribe - like together we would do great things and make each other better and it would be rosy and delightful.

I am the only person in my writing group under the age of sixty. Most of them are twice my age. I'm fine with that - though part of me thinks they like me around because I somehow make them relevant...

And I have never felt more irrelevant.

1. They are all devoted Christians.
2. Their work is all blatantly Christian.
3. Every time I read my work to them I'm afraid I'm being shocking - because, though I myself am a Christian, I am not writing for the Christian market and I include themes that they would never touch with a ten foot pole.

My book includes such things as: polygamy, prostitution, statutory rape, religious leaders who get sucked into 'bad behavior', child abandonment, hate, revenge...and I could go on.

Instead of hearing me explain that there are also powerful themes of redemption, forgiveness, self-discovery, family, hope, love - they left me with this: "Well, I feel there's just too much terrible, negative talk about religious leaders these days."

Because, in writing this book, I am perpetuating the stereotype that every Pastor is a sexual predator?

THAT ISN'T EVEN REMOTELY WHAT I'M SAYING!!!

Needless to say, I left that meeting feeling unheard, unsupported, and like I was writing trash.

I know it's a lie. I know it. But it still put the brakes on and made it hard for me to move forward.

I really think they are lovely people. I really think they do want the best for me in my writing pursuits. I also think, not every group is for every writer.

Perhaps it's time to find a new group. One for people my own age. One that's not afraid to explore the darker edges of humanity.

Wish me luck as I seek it out...

I Vow To Be a Sweetheart of an Old Woman

I came out of staff meeting today to find a present waiting on my desk - decked out in vintage flowered paper like Spring had begun to bloom right there in my office.

"Why is there a present on my desk?" I called out. But no one knew.

The paper came off and I lifted the lid from a white box to find a note written on the most darling card and as I read it I thought 'well shoot! I'm going to cry right here, standing by my desk!'

I didn't. Not because I'm strong but because my friend and coworker had come in to watch me open it - to discover who the mystery giver was - and I wasn't about to blubber all over the thrill of an unexpected gift. "It's from Gloria," I said, handing the note to my friend and digging through white tissue paper to the treasure inside.

Gloria is the kind of ageless woman that makes retirement living seem graceful and kindness oozes off her in great wafts of generosity. We are from wildly different generations and those differences speak volumes but I have never felt judged or looked down on by her. A few weeks ago we shared a table at the church social tea party. In conversation I had mentioned that I didn't own a single tea cup apart from Noa's miniature set. I thought nothing of it; afterall, I don't need fancy china to enjoy a good cup of tea.

From the rustling of tissue paper I pulled a pretty cup and saucer. "It just doesn't seem right that here I am with several cups & saucers - & you, without even one," she wrote in the note. "Here's a pretty one that I want you to have..."

Heart. Melt.

There are two kinds of elderly people in the world. There are Scrooges and there are Gloria's. I have had my fair share of dealings with the Scrooges and I have had my fair share of blessings from the Gloria's.

I choose the Gloria's every time - who choose to be Gloria's even to the Scrooges! What a beautiful way to live life and a beautiful lesson for all of us younger, selfish generations!

When I tracked her down she laughed at my gushing thank you. "Oh, it's just a silly thing," she said. "I had more than would fit in the china cabinet."

Perhaps she thought she was only giving me a piece of china. Perhaps she didn't know she giving me a goal - to be a woman as kind and encouraging and supportive as she is - to be a Gloria to those younger than me.

I've said it before and I'll say it again now: I vow to be a sweetheart of an old woman - I vow to be a Gloria - to brighten the lives of those around me with a gentle spirit, a true heart, and a smile that reminds everyone I used to be young once too.

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The Divine Secrets of a Quiet Saturday {or I don't need to be anyone's Valentine}

Facebook is riddled with romantic photos of flowers and chocolates and 'Isn't my man the greatest?!'

That's all well and good. I'm happy for you, Facebook braggarts.

Guess what I got this fine Valentine's Day?

Nothing.

And everything.

I don't need to be anyone's Valentine. I'm quite happy being someone's forever - Alanna Rusnak, SelfBinding Retrospect

I slept in until 10:30 am. Glorious!

I slipped into a bubble bath and watched Netflix until 11:45 am. Divine!

I made banana pancakes and mini sizzler sausages and chopped raw strawberries and mixed up hot chocolate with mini marshmallows and sat around the table with my four most favourite people in the world. Delightful!

We locked the bedroom door and... Perfect!

I retreated to my writing room, turned up the heat and wrote for four hours {interrupted only to chop up a pile of vegetables and get some soup bubbling on the stove to be ready for dinner}. Inspiring!

I fed those mouths again and we laughed at each others weirdness again and they all thanked me again. Awesome!

Perhaps it's not the most romantic of days.

Or perhaps it is.

I don't need to be anyone's Valentine. I'm quite happy being someone's forever.

The Incredible Power of Gratitude {and 5 easy ways to show it}

I made quiche for dinner tonight. I rolled out the pie crust and beat the eggs and chopped the vegetables and baked it for fifty minutes until it was perfectly set and the house smelled of pastry and breakfast.

"Supper!" I call and they come pounding up the stairs from the basement family room to congregate around the dining room table.

"What is that?" Liam asks, eyeing his plate and me like he doesn't trust either of us.

"Egg pie," I say.

"Egg pie?"

"It's like a pie made out of eggs," Zander offers, "but all vegetabley and stuff," - always so helpful and wise.

We hold hands in a circle. "You pray, Zander," I say. "You're obviously the most thankful."

They have little to say as they eat, dousing their 'pie' in ketchup and taking swills of milk between bites.

They don't like it. It's painfully obvious but not one of them complains.

Zander finishes first.

"You want another slice?" I ask him.

He smiles a little half-sided grin and shakes his head before taking his dishes to the sink. "Thank you for supper," he says.

"More, Liam?" I ask as he forks in the final bite and mumbles his no while his mouth is still full and then takes his dishes to the sink before he's even swallowed.

"Thank you for supper," he says.

Poor Noa still has half left and she's taking the tiniest bird-bites and scrunching up her eyes just a little with each taste. I cheer her on while I take another half slice because I happen to find it positively delicious and she grins at me wide while I make a great show of enjoying it.

I set the kettle on to boil while she toils over her final bites, finally getting them down before adding her plate to her brother's by the sink. "Thank you for supper, mommy," she says and I kiss her square on her eggy face.

"You're welcome," I say.

But really I should be thanking them. I should be learning from them.

If your attitude is gratitude then even small {unlikable} things are worth being thankful for.

I sit back down at the table while my tea steeps and marvel at how I've actually arrived at this moment. This place where I have produced children who - though eating a meal they do not like - do not complain, do not whine, and who, in fact, say thank you when it's over.

I'm not sure how I did that.

But boy am I thankful!

Gratitude is so powerful. And to find yourself in an environment of reciprocal thankfulness is positively life-giving.

My children weren't thanking me for making them a meal they didn't enjoy. They were thanking me for making them a meal - for caring for them - for ignoring the burning desire to arrive home from work, put my feet up, watch Netflix and just tell them to go make themselves some toast with peanut butter.

They were thanking me for loving them.

And I am about bursting with it!

Six Ways to Show Your Gratitude

1. Say it.

Out loud. Right to their face. Be specific. Be genuine. Just say THANK YOU!

2. Public appreciation.

Find ways to acknowledge someones contribution to your project/day/life by praising them in a public forum - among co-workers, family, friends, on social media, your blog, newspaper, a soapbox in the town square...

3. Handwritten notes.

The thought and care expressed through a handwritten note is palpable and it's something the appreciated person can hold on to as a spirit-boost-reminder on a tough day. {How heartbreaking that these are so quickly disappearing from our culture.}

4. A small token.

Surprise someone with kindness in the way of a small gift - be it a cup of coffee, a little box of chocolate, or flowers - it's the thought that counts.

5. Be infectious.

Smile. Spread your attitude of gratitude by being a positive light in the world. Something as simple as a smile can be powerful enough to affirm someone and make them feel personally connected in a world that is so hugely lacking in human contact these days.

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I don't know what I've done to deserve children who say 'THANK YOU' but I do think it has a little something to do with the positive way I choose to live my life. Children are {most often} a reflection of their parents. I try to greet them each day with a smile and a kiss and an attitude that lets them know how much I appreciate them.

I am eternally thankful for them and I will NEVER forget to make sure they know it!

"If the only prayer you say in your life is 'thank you,' that would suffice."

- Meister Eckhart

Who are you thankful for? Have you told them yet today?

{linking up here}

Planning My Way Out Of A Winter Funk

Some creatures were made for winter.

I am not one of them.

Winter is bleak and expensive and dries my skin so excessively that I want to itch until I'm bleeding. It makes me draggy and sad and tired - quick to snack and slow to move.

But there is hope! After all, didn't Leonard Cohen tell us there was a crack in everything? Light gets through even the toughest, ugliest, snowiest wall!

My glimmer? I still have a whole week of vacation days left to use!

And that sounds like hallelujah!

And I am having a riot plotting and planning and organizing a March Break Road Trip Get-Away for my family.

Road Trip Fund - squirreling away some spending money - Planning my way out of a winter funk - SelfBinding Retrospect by Alanna Rusnak

We have not been overly adventurous in the past - content with day trips and camping and hotels in the city. Our children have never been outside of Ontario. They've never been farther than Niagara Falls - which is little more than three hours and forty-two backseat fights away. But, in just over a month, they are going to see the ocean for the very first time and they are practically vibrating with excitement!

I can remember road trips with my family when I was younger. I remember driving to the east coast and I remember driving all the way to the west. I remember seeing mountains and hot springs and the ocean. I remember rest stops and visiting the college where my parents fell in love and tasting my very first Dr. Pepper from a gas station in Manitoba.

A road trip may be the poor mans mode of travel but I'm feeling rather rich as I plot out our stops, trying to pack in as many experiences as I can along the way to South Carolina.

I'm compiling lists, researching hotels, finding strange little stops along the way, forgetting about the wicked winter that looms beyond my window...

The children are saving their money - squirreling it away in jars I've set out for them - doing extra chores so they'll be able to buy souvenirs and treats along the way and I'm brain-storming activities to avoid a million backseat fights. {South Carolina is MUCH farther than Niagara Falls!}

Follow Alanna Rusnak {SelfBinding Retrospect}'s board ROAD TRIP! on Pinterest.

It won't be warm when we all dip our toes in the ocean and search along the shore for shells but it will be something worth a whole lot more than sitting at home bemoaning the snow that will surely still cover the ground!

Do you have any road trip advice for me? I'd love to hear it!!!

Magic Pills and Kitchen Giggles

He stands taller than me now and long, pale whiskers hang off his chin in a cruel attempt to break my heart. When he wanders into the kitchen soon after we've said goodnight it's all I can do to keep a straight face. This poor boy - too big for the pajamas that rest their cuffs at his mid-calf and long sleeves that only come partway past his elbows. This poor boy - looking like a motherless little man in pj's that fit him just months ago. "What are you wearing?" I ask.

He pulls on the top so it's hem reaches the bottoms. "It's all I had," he says. He turns his head and light catches one of those chin hairs and I try to grab it before he hops out of the way. "What are you doing?" he demands but there is laughter in his voice.

"What are you doing?" I retort. "Just stop it. Just stop growing up!"

He raises his eyebrows like he's trying to raise the top of his head even taller over me. "My nose is irritated," he says.

Magic Pills & Kitchen Giggles - SelfBinding Retrospect by Alanna Rusnak

"Irritated?"

"Yeah, irritated. Like kind of hurting."

"Like hurting? Like stuffed? Like you have a pimple in it?" I ask.

"Like irritated."

"Pressure?"

"Um, yeah, I guess."

"So how can I help? You want me to kiss it? Pick it? Squeeze it?"

He shrugs and his mini top climbs up before he yanks it back down.

"You want to take an Advil Cold & Sinus?"

He shrugs again but a grin tugs at the edge of his mouth.

"Can you swallow a pill?"

"Yeah," he says and he looks ready to break out in hysterical laughter.

"What's so funny?" I ask him.

"I don't know," he says, taking the pill from my hand and popping it in his mouth.

I hand him a glass of water. "Those are magic pills," I tell him.

"Sure they are," he says, laughing.

"They are!"

"You're weird, mom."

"You're tall."

He kisses me goodnight and I pray it will never be the last time. "Love you," I say.

"Love you too," and he turns to leave the kitchen, his long legs hanging out the bottom of those red pants like he's a ratty hobo waiting for a train and I can't help but laugh right out loud.

He grins and goes on to bed while I resolve to buy him some new man-sized pajamas and to never never never wish that he outgrows his nerdy weirdness.

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The Problem With A Christian Writer's Group

I Vow To Be a Sweetheart of an Old Woman

For Those Who Love To Craft, I Salute You {with FREE tutorials!}

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The Divine Secrets of a Quiet Saturday {or I don't need to be anyone's Valentine}

The Incredible Power of Gratitude {and 5 easy ways to show it}

If your attitude is gratitude then even small {unlikable} things are worth being thankful for.

Gratitude is so powerful. And to find yourself in an environment of reciprocal thankfulness is positively life-giving.

Six Ways to Show Your Gratitude

1. Say it.

2. Public appreciation.

3. Handwritten notes.

4. A small token.

5. Be infectious.

Planning My Way Out Of A Winter Funk

And I am having a riot plotting and planning and organizing a March Break Road Trip Get-Away for my family.

Magic Pills and Kitchen Giggles

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